Chapter 5
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And so began my life of hate, a life I did not choose, but was forced into by a strange creature.
Of course, I did not give up easily. I tried to kill myself several times in the six years since I was thrown into this unknown world by a blast of light, as I sarcastically call it. Oh, yes, I forgot to mention that small detail. Six whole years have passed.
...
In my first year, my primitive plan was to refuse food. I stopped breastfeeding from the woman I was forced to call "mother" in order to starve to death, but unfortunately for me, the priest's previous gift—or whatever magical power surrounded me—allowed my vitality to be renewed and my lack of food to be continuously compensated for. Its effect wasn't very strong, but it was enough to keep me alive and compensate for my small body's needs.
....
In the second year, plan ( B ) began. It was more annoying for others but enjoyable for me.
I cried and screamed incessantly, hoping that my exhausted vocal cords would give out and I would lose the ability to disturb this world, or perhaps, in a rare moment of negligence, I would be affected by something, maybe a poisonous insect that would find its way into my mouth and end this nonsense.
However, my miserable plan failed for several reasons. First, the obsessive cleanliness throughout this luxurious palace. The maids seemed to spend their lives wiping and disinfecting every inch to prevent even a speck of dust from lingering, let alone an insect that could bring me death.
Second was the constant surveillance. The maids' eyes followed me wherever I went, as if I were a precious treasure that must be preserved, not a prisoner longing for death.
...
In the third year, when I began to feel a glimmer of hope in my ability to move, I decided to implement Plan ( C ).
With my first faltering steps, I began to crawl feverishly toward the edge of the bed, the high platform I imagined would be my happy ending, eager to fall and break my little neck or cause fatal damage that would end this nightmare.
But just as I was about to leap to my salvation, the door suddenly opened and Cleara entered.
She was a young maid with wide eyes that reflected constant anxiety, and she moved quickly and nervously. She froze when she saw me on the edge of the bed, my little legs dangling in the void. She gasped and rushed toward me with panicked steps.
"Young master!"
Cleara cried out as she rushed to lift me from the edge of my bed. She lifted me into her arms carefully, as if I were a fragile piece of glass that could break at any moment.
"What were you doing, little sir? You almost fell!"
While Cleara embraced me with concern and tenderness, preventing me from achieving my noble goal of suicide, I looked at her worried face with small, hateful eyes.
In the depths of my dark soul, I vowed to torture this meddlesome old woman in the deepest fires of hell. I would tear off her shiny nails one by one and cut off her trembling fingers slowly and with relish. Then, I would cut off the hand that stood in the way of my salvation, followed by her nimble limbs. I would rape her in front of the entire village to tarnish her good reputation, and I would wash away my hatred with her warm, sticky blood.
Perhaps if Cleara could know my thoughts and the dark ideas brewing inside me, and the terrible punishment I have in store for her in the distant future and what I will do to her when I grow up, she would flee in terror and run far away, finally giving me the chance to achieve my goal.
But the fool didn't understand, even after I shed tears profusely in front of her and stared at her with devilish glances revealing my malicious intentions.
It seems that stupidity has blessed Cleara with its immense blessings, giving her a thick shield of ignorance that protects her from the truth of the little monster under her care.
After some time had passed and I was preoccupied with thinking of creative ways to end this miserable existence, my mother—that creature for whom I had no feelings and whose name had faded from my memory, burdened with suicide plans—decided to place wooden boards around the bed, turning it into a small cage.
At that moment, a new idea popped into my head, a plan (D), perhaps my last.
I thought of using the gaps between the wooden boards to gradually insert my head and then pull it out with force and violence, hoping that my neck would finally break and I would die. However, a new obstacle stood in the way of achieving this goal: my large skull would not fit through the gaps!
I then thought of repeatedly hitting my large head with those hard wooden planks surrounding my bed like bars of a prison cell, hoping to cause a concussion or a skull fracture that would end this suffering. I continued banging my head until my forehead was swollen and ugly, looking like a rotten red watermelon. As usual, it did no good.
What a despicable, ridiculously resistant body! It seems this body was designed to torture and imprison me against my will.
...
In the fourth year, after all my previous desperate attempts had failed, I began to implement my fifth plan.
It was a plan I never wanted to use.
I put my fingers in my mouth and held my breath as tightly as I could, until my face turned red like a ripe tomato. My eyes became blurry and I lost sight of my surroundings. I felt faint joy creeping into my heart. I was finally about to die!
But, once again, bad luck prevented me from achieving my goal.
Seconds after carrying out my desperate plan, Cleara, the maid, rushed into the room as if she could sense my desire to kill myself.
She found me trying to kill myself and stopped me...again! What an annoying woman!
That day, as Cleara looked at me with her worried eyes, as if she had saved a precious treasure rather than a desperate soul wishing for death, I vowed once again in my heart that I would torment this stupid, foolish maid in the most horrible ways imaginable when I grew up and had the power to do so.
I would make every moment of her life an endless torment, punishment for her constant interference in my noble quest for death!
...
By the fifth year, there was no need for any other plan.
A dangerous, rapidly spreading epidemic swept across the entire kingdom. As expected, my family fell ill, and I was no exception.
On the third day after we fell ill, the priest Mildog arrived, his face pale and even paler, and told us in a desperate tone that there was no cure for this deadly disease.
He then advised my family to pay the exorbitant sum of two thousand gold coins to the church, claiming that this would appease the "chaos" and ward off this dangerous epidemic that had struck us like a bolt from the blue.
Of course, I didn't believe a word that greedy man said.
Even if there were a powerful entity ruling this miserable kingdom, I didn't think it would be kind or merciful. The fart of light that threw me into this world was proof of that!